Just Another Mutant
by QueenoftheQueenies
Summary: Ash is a drug addict. She lives off the street with nothing to her name. That's when the X-Men rescue her. But Ash doesn't want to be saved, she's a glutton for punishment - and believes that she deserves it. Can a young Charles Xaiver help her work through her troubled past and become a valued member of the team? Or will she simply spiral further into her dark depression?
1. Chapter 1

** Chapter one**

I feel jittery, nervous - both terrified and excited. I can barely breathe as I raise a visibly trembling hand to knock hard on the door.

The wait seems to last forever and I can feel myself growing impatient as I tap my foot relentlessly, my heart rate quickly climbing and soaring as I struggle to keep myself from throwing up all over the splintered door.

The door opens after what seems to have been an eternity. Don stands, already high as hell, squinting at me as I push past him. Just from the smell in the air, I can feel that wild need beginning to sizzle away at my nerves.

"You got the stuff?" I ask, entering the main room, ignoring the twitch of my lips as I struggle to speak. I notice a friend of his, Mike, sat and smoking something – something strong.

"Depends," Don murmurs, entering the room. "You got the money?"

I pull out three crumpled tens, two crumpled fives and a whole load of change. I thrust the lot into his hands, watching with horror as some of the change drops. I desperately fall to my hands and knees, scooping up the change before standing and placing it hastily in his hands. I watch with a heaving chest as he takes his time, counting the money with deliberate slowness that has me chewing furiously on my nails – nails that are already chewed down to the bone. It's more or less just the skin I'm biting through now.

"Well, where's the stuff?" I demand frantically as he tucks the money away into his pocket.

He turns to me slowly, tutting loudly with a slight smile. "Sorry Dakota – you're ten short."

My anger spikes as I glare at him, slightly confused. "What do you mean? Don't play games Don – there was fifty there!"

"Didn't you hear? It's gone up to sixty," he laughs.

I let out a wild scream and launch myself at him – only to find my arms suddenly pinned behind me by Mike who had moved silently behind me, without my noticing – so intently focused on Don and that devastating need.

"Let's make a deal," Don smirks, moving towards me. "You make us feel good – and we'll make you feel good."

I scream, bucking like crazy as Mike twists me and throws me onto the couch, still holding my arms painfully – but this time he pins them to the couch arm.

I can't help the burning tears streaming down my face as I kick out, feeling a spring from the couch stabbing into my back.

As Don moves towards me, he begins to unbuckle his belt – and an array of memories hits me like a tornado, making me breathless and weak – threatening menacingly to resurface. I scream and it seems endless, ripping forcefully from the back of my throat.

A loud bang suddenly echoes around the house and Don's attention is turned from me for a moment. I kick him straight in the chest before brining my head back into Mike's unsuspecting face.

Freed, I jump off the couch – my heart going like a jackhammer as I attempt to control my revulsion. I don't even think of grabbing my money or the drugs from Don – instead I bolt towards the door… only to run smack, bang straight into someone.

I scream wildly, panic coursing through my veins as I bite, kick, slap and continue to scream in an attempt to free myself.

Someone's talking, but I can't understand the words – everything no longer makes sense, incoherent and blurred. I can barely see through my terrified haze of fear.

More voices, several in fact – shouting and fast, confusing me further. I scratch at the person trying to pin me, dig my nails in deep.

Then something hits me. Not physically, more like inside my mind. Without warning, I fall into blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

_** Chapter two**_

The heat is what wakes me. Overwhelming, burning and sizzling away at my skin, making it hard to lift my head off the slick floor. I can feel my insides - boiled and fried, my chest heaving as I struggle to breathe through the thick air. I climb unsteadily to my feet, almost falling over when the light-headedness hits me square in the face.

I find myself in a box with see through walls made of some kind of glass. The box is tiny - impossibly tiny. I can barely breathe and even when I can get a gasp of air, it burns all the way down my throat and makes me gag slightly.

I throw myself against one of the walls, letting out a scream of panic and anger. I can't see out - the glass is distorted and steamy from the amount of heat in the box. I gasp, leaning painfully against the glass wall.

"Where am I?" I scream, hammering my fists against the glass.

"Somewhere safe," the voice is rich and deep, unlike any voice I've heard before.

"And where the hell is safe?" I bark hoarsely. "And who the hell are you?"

"My name is Charles Xaiver. And with me is our doctor, Hank McCoy. You're at my school for young gifted individuals," he pauses thoughtfully. "It's a place for Mutants to learn about their powers, to know how to use them. You're safe here."

"Why am I here?" I growl, slamming my hand against the glass, watching it tremor just slightly, despite my force.

"Because you're a Mutant. But you already know that, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Just, just let me go - I - I need..."

"You need what? A hit?" He asks. I don't respond, surprised that his voice lacks the usual judgement that I hear when people talk about me. "No, you're going to stay in this box until the drugs are gone from your system."

"Why?" I scream, throwing my body against the glass. Chest, heaving, I struggle to calm down.

"Because I'm trying to help you."

"Please, please, just let me go. I just... I hate it in here. I can't breathe. Please," I breathe softly, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.

"Ash, I'm sorry. I can't. You're going to be in this box for at least a day. Once the drugs are gone, you'll be put in a room where you'll recover from the shock of the drugs being gone," he replies in a soothing voice. He sounds almost sad and I want to scoff. Well, more importantly, I want to attack him. Bring him down a few pegs.

"Let me out," I beg. "Please, please, just let me out - let me out god damn it! Let me the hell out!"

My voice increases in volume until I'm screaming at the top of my lungs, screaming incoherently - it doesn't even make sense to me.

"I'm sorry Ash," he sighs heavily, sounding apologetic.

I scream until I'm hoarse - and then I scream some more. Continuously screaming until finally I slump against the wall, slide down it and curl into a ball. The sobs that jerk from my chest are more painful than the screams could ever be.


	3. Chapter 3

_** Chapter three**_

I open my eyes to find myself lying flat on a bed - possibly the most comfortable bed I've ever laid on. The sheets feel like silk.

I blink hazily, slowly sitting upright - and the light-headedness hits me like a slap in the face. I sway slightly before flopping back down. I feel like crap - beyond crap. I feel groggy and tired - and my head feels like it's about to explode. I let out a soft sigh and run a hand through my hair. It feels disgusting - greasy and tangled. When was the last time I had a shower? God, I must stink.

It takes me at least several minutes of internal struggling before I can sit upright - and even then, it's more effort than I'd ever like to truthfully admit. I suddenly realise that my right wrist has a rope tied tightly around it - the other end wrapped around the bed post. I jerk on it and the rope tightens painfully.

"It's just a precaution," a familiar voice murmurs.

I whip my head around to find the door open and a young man leaning against the doorway. I take his appearance in in a matter of seconds. He's not necessary tall. but he's not short - he's somewhere in the middle. A lithe body, a head of thick black hair and bright blue eyes.

"A precaution for what?" I ask softly, giving another uncomfortable tug.

"To make sure you don't hurt yourself. Or anyone else," he replies with a shrug, shutting the door and moving towards me.

I scoot backwards, pushing myself against the bed's headboard. He pauses by the bed, raising a hand in front of me, moving slowly.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Like I believe you," I pull my knees up to my chest, wrapping my around around my legs.

"If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already."

I don't respond, instead turn my face away from him, looking toward the bedside cabinet.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like crap."

"The drugs are mostly out of your system by now. You just need to gather your strength a little - maybe actually eat something? You could use gaining a little weight." he says quietly, with a soft sigh.

"Do you plan on keeping me tied up the entire time I'm here?" I question, yanking on my bindings.

"If I untie you will you run off?" He asks.

I don't reply, just refuse to look at him - I keep my eyes trained on the one thing that may help me escape. A pen. Sitting there oh so innocently. It would take but a second to grab it and twist around to him.

With a slight hesitation, he moves forward and leans over me. His close proximity makes me flinch away slightly. It takes a few moments for him to work away the knots, but when he finally does and the ropes fall lose - my other hand darts across and snatches the pen up. I grab him by his shirt, flip him over and the moment he hits the floor, I press the pen against his throat.

He doesn't look surprised - actually he looks slightly amused. "You plan on using a pen, really?"

"It's all I've got."

"And what about the other thing you've got?" He asks, eyebrows raised.

"I do't know what you're talking about," I growl, pressing the point against his throat.

"I know you have a power Ash, I just wish I knew why you've blocked it off and refuse to use it."

I swallow hard, eyes against his, unwavering. "Don't push me."

"I'm not."

"Then shut up," I take a shaky breath. "What's the best way out of here?"

"I have several mutants waiting nearby, keeping a close eye on this room. You won't get far."

"And what if I take you hostage?"

"You still won't get far," he laughs softly.

"I can damn well try," I growl.

I climb to my feet, grab his arm and haul him up. I continue to press the pen against his throat, knowing that it's unlikely to do any kind of real damage - even if I could stabd him with it - I doubt it would break the skin.

We reach the door and he jerks away from suddenly, whirls me around and shoves me against the wall. My face presses against the cold wall as he easily pins my arms behind my back. The pen lies on the floor.

"Now, I just want you to listen, okay?" He says softly, easily pinning me without hurting me.

I protest, struggling hard against him, but he refuses to let go.

"I'm telepathic. I know that you have a power of some kind - but for some reason, I can't find it. And usually, finding out what Mutants powers are is one of my specialties."

"I don't have a power," I growl, feeling sicker and sicker the longer I stand here.

"You don't have to be ashamed," he replies softly, his words soothing.

"I can't be ashamed of something I don't have," I reply weakly.

He pauses. "If I let go, this time will you not try and attack me?"

I bite my lip and close my eyes, trying to hold back a sudden wave of tears. He steps back and hesitantly lets go of my arms. I turn around, pressing myself hard against the wall, eyes on his.

"Just hear me out, okay?" He asks quietly.

I don't respond, instead just keep my eyes trained on his, a familiar jittery need coursing through my veins and causing a horrible sense of weakness.

"Stay here for a week. Just one week. And at the end, if you've enjoyed your stay and feel better - stay longer," he pauses, eyes warm and yet concerned. "No one wants you back on the streets, living the way you were. You have a safe place to live here - well protected, a warm bed and at least three meals a day. It's entirely your decision. Do we have a deal?"

"Do I have a choice?" I reply huskily, crossing my arms over my chest.

He sighs and moves to the door suddenly, holding it open. "If you want to go, go. I mean it though. You'll be safe here."

My eyes dart from the opened doorway to him and I hesitate. The thought of going back to the streets, living in the cold and constantly hungry is enough to make me pause. But I know that I can easily get some cash together so that I can pay for more drugs - which means I'll be able to block it out.

Without another second, I dart forward and out.


	4. Chapter 4

_** Chapter four**_

I'm running with no direction. I pass several faces and they seem to be pinned on me, watchful and suspicious - but I don't stop. The hallways seem empty as I dart along them, quick on my feet whilst trying to avoid people.

No one tries to stop me - but if the guys a telepath, he would have easily been able to tell them to not stop me. I'm breathless after a matter of seconds, my chest heaving as I struggle to not only stop myself from hyperventilating, but also to stop looking at others and seeing the constant judgement in their eyes.

I pass few and far but I can see it in their eyes - watching me, judging me with nothing but disgust, instantly jumping to their god damn conclusions without any of the necessary information. I ignore them, refuse to even glance at them. I just can't. It's too much. I've just got to get out of this damn place.

I round a corner and run straight into someone. I stumble backwards and find myself facing a man roughly the same age as the guy back there - Charles. He's much taller and more well built - and by his side is a gorgeous young woman - her skin a brilliant blue. Her golden eyes remain trained on mine, unflinching.

I blink rapidly, heart suddenly racing in their presence - and he raises an eyebrow, watching me carefully. I imagine the disgust in those eyes, hidden beneath his calm mask, a facade. I bite my lip hard enough to break the skin before moving quickly around them, refusing to say a word and instead picking up my pace once more.

I can almost feel their eyes burning holes into the back of my head.

I reach a set of double doors and fling them open - only to find over a hundred pair of eyes suddenly focused on mine. Instantly, I slam the doors shut again, my insides quivering as I try to remember how to breathe.

Heart racing, I peer through the glass. A few are still looking in this direction, some curious and some confused. Most of the others have already forgotten about me, in just that split second, and are already focused on something else.

The worst part is that they all just look so damn happy. There's not as many as I thought there would be - because of the size of this place - but there's still plenty. Plus I passed a bunch of them in the hallways.

I try to ignore the bitter tears that begin to fall as I watch their interactions. Warmth, joy, friendship - even love. I can see it all in this one big hall - a cafeteria of sorts, where the students can eat. I can even see a few kids sneakily using their powers.

I find myself burning with jealously. When was the last time I felt anything? I've been numb for so long. I lean heavily agaisnt the wall with a shuddering breath and look down to find my shirt - old and torn - wet with my tears. Without warning, I suddenly cannot breathe. No matter how sharply I inhale - nothing comes in or out. I choke on a sob and slide down the wall to sit.

I can't breathe. Oh god, the panic is more than I can handle. I gasp painfully, my lungs scream for air as I struggle to control the increasingly hot burning in my chest. I see white dots, flashes of colours and bright sparks before my eyes as harsh choking noises erupt from my throat.

"Put your head between your knees. Breathe deeply." Charles says, appearing out of nowhere.

I do as he says, the panic shooting through me making me obedient. His hand circles my back slowly and a comforting warmth spreads from his touch - it takes a good few minutes, but eventually I find myself breathing normally, calm once more.

"Feel better?" He murmurs softly.

I pull my head up slowly and let out a shaky breathe, nodding my head slightly. I do feel better - not by much, but at least the panic's gone. "Thank you."

His hand still rests at my back and he suddenly glances through the glass at the students.

"You could have it too, you know."

My heart jumps as my eyes dart quickly in the direction of the glass. I don't look through. It hurts too much. "What?"

"You could be happy here, if you gave it a chance." His eyes are warm, comforting - there's no disgust, no sneer. Nothing like I'm used to. It's so strange.

I don't say anything at first, instead stare down at the rip in my trousers at my right knee. I bite hard on my lip. "I'm not good with people."

He stands suddenly, letting out a soft sigh. Pauses.

"One week, okay? Just one week. Then you can do what you want."

I look up at him hesitantly to find him standing there with a hand held out to me. I hesitate and it seems to last an age, longer than I intend to leave it. He doesn't falter. Finally, with a soft sigh, I take his hand.


End file.
